


for the love, i'd fallen on

by zouisau



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blowjobs, M/M, Multi, Zourry - Freeform, literally just porn, niall's only in this briefly and liam's not even mentioned, quite a bit of dirty talk and gendered slurs, unprotected sex, very slight dom/sub implied but not stated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 14:25:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3123458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zouisau/pseuds/zouisau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis' needs more than what Harry can give him. They find Zayn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	for the love, i'd fallen on

**Author's Note:**

> very self-indulgent. like literally i just wanted this.  
> disclaimer that nothing is mine/true/etc etc blah blah please don't share this with anyone even remotely involved with the people depicted please and thank you  
> title taken from towers by bon iver  
> not beta'd by anyone, all mistakes my own.

It starts out a bit complicated.

It hadn’t been a _thing_.

Harry’s probably had one too many shots. He can feel the alcohol coursing through his veins. Even in his drunken stupor he knows that he’s gonna feel like shit in the morning, that he’s gonna regret the shots. He’ll probably vow never to drink again, Louis would kiss him on the forehead, rub his back, and make him tea. They’ll go out the next weekend.

Maybe it should be a bit alarming that his life was so _routine_ , but if routine included Louis then Harry was okay. He loved Louis.

And even if that routine didn’t include too many shots and a dark club, as long as it had Louis he could still love routine.

Alcohol and dingy clubs were just a plus, anyway.

The club is dark, a mass of bodies sweating and pulsing and pushing against one another, and Harry’s among it all. He can still see Louis, leaned against the bar as he orders a drink from Niall, probably teasing him about something. 

Harry moves with the beat, an instrumental song with too much bass, that reverts in his skull and moves the alcohol along. It’s quite lovely. 

He almost, _almost_ , doesn’t notice the hands snaking around his hips, pulling him in. And he catches himself grinding back, his ass presses against the line of someone else’s dick, his eyes meeting Louis’ from across the floor. Louis, holding two drinks, one for Harry. Harry, shocked and ass pressed to someone’s front. He moves away then, feels himself push everyone away as he moves towards Louis, the crowd seeming to push him away, to not let him reach Louis. He needs to get closer. He needs to explain. Tell Louis that it was a lapse in judgement, he’s piss drunk, Louis would understand.

_He has to._

Louis seemed to have moved back towards the bar, he’s sipping on a beer, a martini sitting next to it on the bar. He’s talking to Niall, eyes crinkled as he laughs about something Niall says.

“Lou.” Harry says, reaching him, tentatively grabbing his martini.

“Harry.” Louis says, his tone isn’t cold- but it’s off.

Harry’s heart is racing, both from pushing through the crowd and also from the thought that this it. It’s been a beautiful four months and somehow he’d managed to fuck it up. To throw it out.

“Can we go?” Harry asks, tugging on Louis’ shirt a bit.

He doesn’t want to admit it but his dick is starting to harden in his jeans. Alcohol always makes him horny, Louis makes him horny, and terribly enough the dick pressed against his ass had been good. 

Louis wraps an arm around Harry’s shoulders, pulling him in and under his arm even though Harry is a couple of inches taller, especially with his heeled boots on. “You okay, babe?” He smiles, his eyes shiny.

Harry can usually read him pretty good, but it’s hard then. It’s hard to understand what exactly Louis is thinking of.

“Please,” Harry says, he sounds childish to his own ears, begging Louis.

“Sure.” Louis says, kissing Harry’s forehead, and drowning the rest of his beer. “We better be off then Niall. Think Harry’s had enough for one night, anyway.”

Harry nods, looks over at Niall whose mixing a drink.

The cold night air calms Harry down, sobers him up as the wind bites at his exposed skin. He’s still sweaty from the club, his shirt sticking to his back. Louis flags down a taxi, pushing Harry in carefully and rattling off his address. 

Harry shakes agains the seat. Reassures himself. _How mad is Louis? Maybe not too much. He’s not taking you home._  

Louis’ silent in the ride home, carefully running his hand up and down Harry’s thigh, which leaves Harry almost mewling for more. He wants to climb Louis in the backseat of the taxi and fuck himself. He doesn’t care if the driver watches, wants Louis inside of him. Wants, wants, wants.

Louis leans over, paying the driver and opening the door for Harry.

Harry can’t concentrate, his dick throbbing in his jeans.

“Wanna ride my cock, baby?” Louis whispers as he pushes Harry out the taxi door. “Bet you want it.”

Harry’s holding on to Louis tightly, his fingers holding on to his collar, he practically has to restrain himself from humping Louis’ leg. 

Louis, always a step ahead of Harry, says, “Bet you could come just from humping my thigh.”

Harry wants to moan, the way that Louis’ talking to him going straight to his dick.

It’s not long before Louis’ putting his key in and opening the door. Harry follows him in. 

“Want some tea, then?” He says, heading into the kitchen.

“Um,” Harry says, he’s feeling left high and dry. He wonders if Louis is going to bring up the stranger at the club. Wonders if maybe Louis’ waiting for him to bring it up. Harry takes the leap. “Lou? Did you see that guy, when I was dancing?”

“What guy?” Louis asks, taking out two tea bags and dipping them into the hot water. 

“He was, uh, dancing on me?” _I was dancing on him_.

“Oh, yes.” Louis says, nodding, as he dips the tea bags in. “Green, right? Two sugar cubes?”

“Right, yeah.” Harry says.

“Here you go.” Louis says, handing the tea cup to Harry and heading to sit on the couch, patting the seat next to him. “Think we should drink this and head to bed, yeah?”

And that’s that. Harry almost feels a bit lied to. _Did Louis not care about a stranger grinding on him?_ The thought upsets Harry, he hadn’t done it on purpose, and that’s probably why Louis isn’t reacting, but still. Harry wants Louis to at least fully acknowledge it. His reaction isn’t in character.

Louis puts a re-run of Breaking Bad on the television and settles into the couch, steaming mug in his hands. Harry sits on the opposite end, feeling worlds away as he sips his tea.

The episode is maybe fifteen minutes in when Louis speaks. “Did you say you wanted to ride me?”

At the mention of it, the way the words slip out of Louis so casually, Harry’s stomach swoops. “Yeah, I. Yeah.” He mumbles, setting his cup down.

“Okay.” Louis says, setting his own cup down, but not moving from his spot. Not making any move towards Harry, his eyes zoned into Breaking Bad.

Harry pouts. “Can I, then?”

“Of course.” Louis says, unbuttoning his jeans.

Harry moves closer, peeling his own jeans down and standing in his button up shirt, socks, and black pants. He wants Louis attention.

“Lou?”

“Harry?”

“Um.” Harry says, hoping Louis can understand. “Like right now?”

“If you want.” Louis says, finally looking at Harry. “You can start.”

“Okay.” Harry says, grabbing the lube from between two cushions where they last left it. Usually Louis loves spreading him open, could probably spend hours fingering him and eating him out, has brought him to orgasm with just his fingers. Harry could spend hours with Louis’ fingers in him, his tongue circling his rim.

Harry peels his pants down, coating his fingers in lube and tracing his rim. He pushes a finger in, his mouth falling open as it enters him. He closes his eyes, thinks of Louis’ cock inside of him of the way the burn always feels. He almost wants to pull Louis’ dick out and just fuck himself, skip stretching himself out. He pushes another finger in when he thinks he can take it, scissoring himself. He’s sure he looks great, always looks great, but when he glances over at Louis, he’s not paying attention absorbed to where Breaking Bad is playing on the screen.

“Lou,” Harry breathes. “Louis, please.”

He wants Louis, wants his fingers, and tongue, and his dick. Wants all of him, anything.

“M’ready.” Harry mumbles, still scissoring himself.

“You can ride me then,” Louis says, peeling his jeans down to his shins, pulling his pants down with it. His dick exposed, curved upwards, a pretty pink. He runs a hand up and down, as if he were gonna jerk off. Harry’s mouth practically waters. 

He climbs Louis’ lap and sinks himself down, pressing his already sweaty forehead to Louis’ shoulder, wishing the shirt wasn’t in the way so he could bite at Louis’ skin. He starts unbuttoning his own shirt, wants Louis’ to play with his nipples, but his fingers shake as he rocks back and forth on Louis’ dick.

“Lou, please.” Harry says, motioning to the buttons on his shirt.

“Harry.” Louis scolds. 

“Louis.” Harry begs, his own cock is rubbing against Louis’ t-shirt, leaking already.

Louis finally tears his eyes away from the program. “You’re fucking gagging for it aren’t you? Want me to fuck you so bad.”

“Please,” Louis’ words are going straight to him. Making Harry bounce harder, his thighs straining, knees digging into the couch. “Please, Lou, fuck me.”

“You don’t care who fucks you, as long as you’re getting off, as long as there’s a dick in you. Bet you would have fucked that guy at the club.” He says, there’s no real venom in his words, it’s getting Harry off. Louis knows this. He’s thrusting up shallowly. Harry needs him.

“Yes, god. Yes. Please. Need your cock, Lou. Only yours. No one else’s.”

“Were you thinking of my cock when you were grinding against his dick?” Louis asks, fucking harder into Harry, hitting his spot every single time.

“Yes, yes,” Harry mutters, he’s gone limp, he can feel his orgasm coming, curling in his stomach, electrifying his entire body. He’s babbling, shouts a bit when he comes, falls back happily, Louis’ dick still in him.

 

—

 

The second time it happens it’s on purpose.

They’re at Niall’s bar again, and Louis has been whispering sweet nothings into Harry’s ear. Soft, lustful thoughts that drive Harry breathless, make him want to be pinned against a bed with Louis on top, so it’s a surprise when Louis whispers, “That guy over there’s been checking you out all night.”

They’re in a dark corner of the room, Harry leaning against the wall to hold himself steady, feels himself shaking like a leaf. He makes a noise in the back of his throat, thinking of someone watching them, but doesn’t bother to actually look.

“Like it, I bet.” Louis says, kissing Harry’s exposed neck. “Bet you would love it if he watched. Want him to see you fall apart.”

Harry’s not sure if anyone is looking at them, _actually_ looking at them, paying any attention to them. Either way, he really doesn’t care, not with Louis’ hand ghosting over his dick.

“Wanna come, baby?” Louis’ breath is at his neck, trailing kisses.

“Yes, please.” Harry mumbles too turned on to do much of anything. He can feel himself thrusting a bit, nothing providing friction.

“You can come. Come right here. Make everyone watch. Get off on it.” Louis mumbles, the words coursing through Harry, making him want.

He turns around, draping himself over Louis and grinding and rutting against Louis’ leg. He’s being loud, even for the corner of a seedy club, but Louis’ hushes him, presses his lips against his mouth, taking in all the moans and raspy breaths. 

“Beautiful, baby.” Louis says, pushing Harry’s hair back as Harry comes with a soft moan.

 

—

 

It’s a game then. 

They go to the same bar every Friday night, and like a couple of swingers scope the place out. The first few weeks are like that first time, where Harry would get off on Louis and on the thought of being watched in the club before going home and getting fucked into the mattress. Louis above him calling him a slut, making him come harder than he’s ever come before, leaving him high and dry.

It’s not until weeks into their little play that Louis, between kisses, points out a guy to Harry. “Bet he wants to fuck you.” Louis says, leaning in. “Bet you’d love it.” Harry glances over, notices the guy with broad arms and a trimmed haircut. “Bet you’d want his fingers stretching you, scissoring you and pressing down. You’d be a wriggling mess, huh baby?” 

Harry can’t deny his arousal, but this different than the game they usually play. They’ve just arrived, they’re still at the bar, in the light, in sight of everyone. He wants it though. Wants anything Louis will give to him. He doesn’t know how to respond though, he doesn’t want anyone else to fuck him, only Louis. “Only want your cock.” He whispers, like it’s a secret.

“Bet you’d be a good boy and fuck him though, if I wanted. If I asked.” 

This feels a bit more serious than simple dirty talk. 

He doesn’t know the answer. Doesn’t know if he would fuck some other guy if it would get Louis off, like personal porn.

“I just,” he stumbles around his words. His dick is painfully hard and he’s not drunk enough and the guy is staring at them, as if he’s aware of their conversation. Or maybe because they’re acting more than a little inappropriate in an busy part of the club. 

Louis pushes himself away, “It’s okay, Harry.”

And that’s that.

 

—

 

They fuck softly that night. Harry riding Louis, fucking himself deeply, keeping Louis inside and instead grinding, constant pressure on his spot.

“Louis,” this was the wrong time, definitely the wrong time. But the thought keep eating away at Harry and he knew that it would be fruitless to contain it, no reason to. “Louis, did you want that guy to fuck me?” It’s a genuine question masked as dirty talk. “Wanted that guy to fuck me deep while you watched, while you stroked yourself.” Like real-life porn, Harry thinks again. “Bet you’d like that.” It was a joke, the way he said it, poking fun of Louis at the bar, of his words. Of the words that got Harry off so quickly. 

“I can fuck him, if you want.” He would. He would do anything for Louis. 

And the thought of getting Louis off without even touching him was rewarding. The thought of fucking himself on someone else’s dick and shouting Louis’ name is new and exciting.

Harry feels Louis muscles tense, and then with a shout he’s coming.

 

—

 

It’s nothing new, not really.

At least that’s what Harry tells himself. They’ve done something similar. It’s all been leading up to something, and this, this is okay.

Harry has been spread out on the bed before, dildo deep in him, as Louis watches, stroking himself. Usually that ends with Louis in him, but still, similar.

And their little game of people watching and fucking is good, similar.

So this is just combined and then a step further.

Harry scopes out the place first, separated from Louis. They’re at a different bar, a little less seedy but good nonetheless. Harry manages to find a few people that he thinks would be good, and even dances with one of them, pressing their bodies against one another. 

There’s a problem, though. They all look similar to Louis, not terribly so, but enough of a resemblance that it makes Harry itch. They all have brown hair, maybe a few shades off, and blue eyes, not as bright of course. All are a few inches shorter, although there is one bloke who is taller. But he can’t read any of them, doesn’t know if any of them would be okay with fucking Harry and having Louis watch. It’s not exactly something Harry can bring up, can ask casually. And how would you even ask that casually from a casual hook-up?

Hey, wanna fuck? But mind if my boyfriend watches? No. Not like a threesome.

Because it burns something inside of Harry, the thought of another man being fucked by Louis, of Louis getting fucked by someone else. Of those noises that he makes, the little whimpers being pushed out by anyone other than Harry.

It might be a bit hypocritical, probably is. But Harry is doing this for Louis, only because of Louis. He has no real interest in any of the boys he’s been watching outside of Louis. Doesn’t want to fuck them if Louis isn’t watching. That’s what gets him aroused, the thought of Louis watching him getting fucked by some faceless stranger.

Harry’s resigned. Maybe they should go to a sex club, they might find more luck. It might turn out better for all of them, for both of them. 

But just as Harry’s about to order then a drink, something with vodka, Louis comes bounding up, happily bouncing, as he gets on his tippy-toes and murmurs in Harry’s ear, “I found someone.”

And he had. Someone who was willing to fuck Harry while Louis watched.

“Where?” Harry says, turning and scanning the room. He wonders if Louis had considered any of the boys Harry had watched. 

“I’ll show you.” Louis says, taking Harry’s arm and leading him away from the bar. “He’s outside.”

So. They were really doing this. A chill ran up Harry’s spine.

As soon as they stepped outside, Harry scanned the crowd of people that mingled outside, smoking cigarettes. “Who is he?”

“Him.” Louis says, motioning to a guy that Harry had scanned right over and pulling him in the direction. The boy’s hood was pulled up, smoke curling around him as he took drags from a half-gone cigarette. He was barely taller than Louis, and just a smidgen shorter than Harry. His hair was styled in a tall quiff, leaning against the exposed brick wall. 

“He’s.” He was good-looking. Better-looking than any of the boys that Harry had looked at inside the club. Harry wondered how far this would go. If Louis would want to touch this boy too. Harry found himself frowning, perhaps it was something that they should have discussed a bit more. How far it would go.

And even though he knew it wasn’t too late to stop, to ask Louis if _he_ wanted to fuck this other guy, he let himself be dragged along, not being able to hide the fact that his stomach was flipping. Because, fuck. He wanted this. He wanted this as much as Louis did.

As long as Louis did.

“Good, then?” Louis asked.

“Good.”

“Zayn!” Louis says, letting go of Harry as they approached Zayn. Zayn looked up, smiled brightly and put out his cigarette. 

“Hey,” he greeted Louis and then looked at Harry as if an afterthought. “You must be Harry.” He extended a hand, the same sunny smile on his face.

It was too formal for what they were about to do. Harry took it anyway.

“Shall we go then?” Louis asked, leading the way. Zayn on one side, Harry on the other.

 

—

 

It’s a short trip back, a walk through quiet streets where only dogs and drunks can be heard. It’s nice. They don’t really talk, not the three of them, at least.

Harry’s feeling a bit dazed. Louis asks Zayn what he does. Zayn says he’s studying, works part-time at a deli. 

Harry can tell this is mostly for his own benefit. So that Harry can know who Zayn, Harry knows that Louis has heard this before. Answers to questions he’s already asked.

Zayn is twenty-one, a year younger than Louis, and thinking of studying law. _Something stable,_ he says. He does art on the side, _mostly oils and acrylics_ , he says. He has sisters.

“Hey, we all have sisters,” Louis’ feeble attempts to try and get Harry to participate.

But Harry’s mind is wandering. Thinking of being pinned down of meeting Louis’ eyes from farther away than usual, filled to the brim. “You have a brother,” he says instead.

“Ernest. Yes.” Louis says, saying the name for Zayn’s benefit. 

They arrive at the flat, Louis unlocking the door and turning on the light in the living room. “Would you like some tea?” He’s looking at Zayn.

“Think maybe we should just do this. I’ve got work tomorrow.” Zayn says, sitting on at the end of a couch.

“Okay, yeah.” Louis nods, looking suddenly nervous. “Here, or?”

“Here.” Harry says, before either of them can suggest the bedroom. The bedroom is his and Louis’, only his and Louis’.

“Okay,” Zayn says, sitting back.

“Okay.” Harry repeats, walking over a bit before balancing himself as he toes off his boots and pulls off his socks. He doesn’t hesitate in peeling his jeans off, and then pulling off his t-shirt. “You should get undressed too.” It’s probably the least sexy thing anyone has done before sex.

It’s too mechanical.

Zayn doesn’t respond, raises his eyebrows and looks over at Louis, who had settled on the single couch. It’s a _what do you think, what do you want?_ sorta look.

“Harry can undress you.” Louis says. “Kiss him.” It’s a request aimed at Harry, and so Harry listens. Clambers on to Zayn delicately. Zayn who is still fully dressed, looking completely calm with Harry kissing him, prying his lips open and softly kissing Zayn fully. He feels frazzled inside, electrified. He wants everything. Wants, wants, wants.

Zayn takes no time to take control of the kiss, kissing Harry deeper than Harry had been kissing him. Harry lets him take a lead, following along slowly and languidly, trying to relax his muscles, his brain. 

Zayn’s hand ghosts over Harry’s half-hard dick, his fingers touching the tip so that Harry arches his back and pushes himself fully on to Zayn, and grinds down.

“Fuck.” Zayn says. 

“Undress him Harry,” Louis says. “Pull his dick out. Suck it.”

Harry wastes no time, more animated. He unzips Zayn’s zipper and pulls his jeans halfway down his thighs, and then releases his dick from the constraints of Zayn’s pants. He laps at the tip, and jerks it once or twice, loose motions.

Harry doesn’t hesitate as he takes Zayn into his mouth, pressing his tongue on the vein on the underside and bobbing his head up and down. He gags a bit, for theatrics, and moans around Zayn’s cock, looking over at Louis. Louis, who is still fully dressed but is grabbing at his own crotch, palming himself.

The sight drives Harry wild as he bobs his head more animatedly, taking Zayn down fully, and rutting against the couch a bit, feeling himself leak from his tip a bit.

“Pull his hair,” Louis’ voice is rough, directed at Zayn. Zayn obliges wordlessly, grabbing Harry’s hair and pushing him down a bit, so that Harry gags for real, and Zayn throws his head back, his grip loosening but still present. It turns Harry on. He wants to crawl over to Louis and beg, wants Zayn to watch him as he takes it from Louis, wants Zayn to see how good Louis is at taking care of him. 

“Want Zayn to finger you babe?” Louis’ voice is soft as he speaks.

Harry nods, he feels on edge, ready to come at Louis’ command. 

He doesn’t ask for that though. Tosses a bottle of lube to Zayn, and watches instead as Zayn pulls down Harry’s pants just enough to expose him, coating his fingers in lube and tracing his rim a bit. 

“You want it huh babe?” And it’s like Louis is the puppet-master, telling Zayn exactly what to do and say and acting through him.

“Yes, yes, please, Lou.” Harry mumbles pushing back on Zayn’s touch. Louis must give the go-ahead because Zayn pushes a finger into Harry, slowly. It’s good, better than good, as he pictures how he must look to Louis, all stretched out and ready to be taken, on the verge of coming from giving and a bit of kissing and a single finger. He thrusts up a bit, his hips moving involuntarily, asking for friction.

“More, please.” Harry hears himself asking, and Zayn or Louis or both must decide that yes, because he gets another finger, pushed in roughly that makes Harry arch his back and fuck himself down on Zayn’s fingers, wishing they were thicker, longer; wishing he was full.

“Want it, please,” he begs.

“Think you can come just from Zayn’s fingers. Stretching you so nicely.” Louis says, he sounds aroused, breathy.

“Yeah, God, yeah.” Harry says, bouncing on Zayn’s fingers as they provide constant pressure. He feels like he’s been teetering on the edge. “Please, wanna come.” He _needs_ Louis to tell him it’s okay. 

“Yeah, baby.” Louis says, his voice soft, as if the tone wont be heard by Zayn, just them two.

Harry comes in his pants with a shout of Louis’ name, grinding himself down on Zayn’s fingers.

It last for what feels like a long time, he feels slow and tired afterwards and wants to crawl over to Louis to have Louis fuck him quickly while he’s still stretched to get himself off, to use him as a blow-up doll and then cuddle him and tuck him into bed. 

“Lou,” he mumbles, as Zayn takes his fingers off.

“Babe.” Louis reprimands. 

Sometimes Harry’s selfish with sex. Slow and languid and only cares about his own orgasm, chasing after it before he even acknowledges and realizes that Louis’ still not come. Louis balances him out, fucks him proper. 

And of course. Now there’s not only Louis, but Zayn as well. And Harry has to take care of them. 

“Kiss Zayn, a bit, yeah, baby? Look at the mess you made of yourself. Undress.”

Harry does that first, peeling off his pants, glad that they don’t stick before climbing on Zayn. He tugs a bit at Zayn’s t-shirt and looks over at Louis, “Can I?” Louis nods, and Harry peels Zayn’s shirt off, his movements slow from his orgasm. He’s still shaking a bit.

He kisses Zayn, shuffling in his lap so that Zayn can get fully naked, leaving Louis as the only one fully dressed.

“Get on all fours, baby, want to see Zayn fuck you.”

Harry’s half-limp dick perks up at this. It’s so soon after he’s last came, but the thought of having a dick in him make shim pulse, he wants it.

He gets on all fours, just like Louis instructed, and reaches around, touching his rim a bit, his eyes fluttering shut. He feels Zayn behind him, rolling on a condom and lubing himself up, and then there’s a finger nudging past his rim, fingernail catching, driving Harry to full hardness.

Zayn pushes another finger, and then another, Harry feeling on the edge again, with Zayn three fingers deep. He can’t stop the sounds that come out of him, the moans and groans as he takes in Louis still palming himself. Harry wonders if he’s leaking. If the jeans are dark enough that a stain isn’t visible.

He hopes this is getting Louis aroused enough, that this is everything Louis’ ever wanted and more. It feels like everything he’s ever wanted and more. It’s not even that interesting or special sex, no new and exciting positions. Nothing of that sort.

It’s just straight up fucking, but there’s something weirdly intimate about it, even with Zayn in the room.

Harry practically whines as Zayn removes his fingers, instantly feeling empty. But then Harry pushes in slowly, inch by inch and Harry’s practically coming. He’s already so sensitive from his previous orgasm, all his senses haywire and he wants this, wants it more than he’s ever wanted anything, perhaps. At least that’s what it seems like in that moment. 

Zayn’s fucking into him, the sound of skin slapping against skin. He wants to be spanked, wants Louis to spank him, not Zayn, so he doesn’t say anything, instead takes it, pushes back with each thrust so that Zayn goes deeper, hitting his prostate head on. And it shouldn’t be this easy, it really shouldn’t- fucking someone else while you’re boyfriend watches, but it’s so goddamn good and all of Harry’s cells are going crazy with lust, with need.

He looks up, meeting Louis’ blue eyes as he gets fucked, letting himself float off as he watches Louis pull his cock out and stroke himself, he’s hard and leaking and Harry wants a taste.

“M’close.” That’s Zayn. In the seconds that Harry had been absorbed by Louis’ he’d forgotten that Zayn was even there, at the other end of the dick that was currently fucking Harry. 

“Wrap a hand around him,” Louis says to Zayn, motioning to Harry’s own cock which is feels heavy and full, the pressure in his balls almost too much.

Zayn does so and Harry watches as Louis throws his head back, exposing his neck as he moans long and deep.

“Fuck,” it’s Zayn and he’s coming, his thrusts erratic, missing Harry’s spot, yet it seems to drive him over the edge. Zayn’s thumbnail skirts over Harry’s slit and he’s shooting off into the couch.

There’s a second before his orgasm where he thinks they should have laid out a towel on the couch and then he’s overcome with pleasure. Every muscle in his body screaming as it’s electrified. His muscles seem to give out and he collapses onto the couch, into his own come.

“Fuck.” He murmurs, hyperaware of everything, including Zayn sliding out.

He doesn’t bother sitting up, wants to curl up into a ball and nap for years, even if the come is going toes tick to his skin and become tacky. 

He hears Zayn and Louis muttering and moving about the flat. The door open and closesand Louis comes back into Harry’s view, kneeling down. He’s still dressed, his cock back in his pants.

“Hey, babe. How you feeling?” Louis asks, pushing Harry’s sweaty hair off his sweaty forehead.

“Think we should have laid out a towel,” Harry says. “I came all over our couch.”

Louis laughs, kisses his nose. “It’s okay, baby. Want me to carry you to the bed?”

“Please.” Harry murmurs, wrapping himself around Louis like a koala.

He almost doesn’t realize they’re moving until he lands on the bed with a soft thump. He feels happy and sedated and satisfied in a way that he never has before. 

Well taken care of.

“Want some tea?” Louis asks.

“Just some cuddles,” Harry mumbles, burrowing himself deeper into the mattress and pulling the duvet up.

Louis makes a small noise and then there’s a warm body wrapping around Harry, enveloping him in love as he drifts off to sleep.

 

 

 


End file.
